


Measure Still For Measure

by lecomtedelacomtesse



Category: Measure for Measure - Shakespeare
Genre: F/M, NSFW, Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 15:52:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16684564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lecomtedelacomtesse/pseuds/lecomtedelacomtesse
Summary: I apologise for this piece of rubbish.The tempter or the tempted, who sins most? All I know is that I accept no responsibility at all for this.I also NEVER write RPF so I don’t know what has come over me, honestly. I’m sorry, Jack—I hope you never find this.Family Warning: Do Not Read





	Measure Still For Measure

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings: choking/strangulation (mild)
> 
> It’s a little rough at times and there’s an emotional distance between the characters (mainly bc,,, Angelo). Also a warning that this definitely shouldn’t be an example of a healthy relationship and nor should it be seen as an appropriate takeaway from the play in any way.
> 
> Also: it majorly helps if you’ve seen the play as there are references to lines, costumes etc., however I guess it’s not totally necessary

It had been going on for about a month, this thing between the two of you. You guessed it was just casual sex, the odd hookup in between shows or during rehearsals—something to fight the monotony for you both. You were pretty sure he had a high-profile girlfriend and you had never been invited back to his flat—just as he had never been to yours. He was keeping you at arms length and it was bound to stay that way. 

If you were honest, you didn’t mind being used by him. You were just a stagehand, after all, and he was, well... practically a God. He could do literally anything to you—and you would let him.

It wasn’t the first time he sought you out during the interval, but it wasn’t common. You’d heard whispers from the cast that tonight’s coercion scene with Hayley had been _particularly_ provocative. It was no wonder he needed to let off some steam. 

Just like the first night. 

You laughed to yourself every time you recalled the memory of hearing about how Hayley had been just a little _too_ intense in that first public scene with Angelo; how he’d had to adjust himself onstage, in front of everyone. True to form though, it had left him with not a trace of embarrassment—only frustration. You had taken care of it. 

He was always thrumming with excited energy when he came offstage. That was when you liked him best. It was when he was at his most passionate, full of life and adrenaline; all his usual hesitation gone. A man of two extremes, he was always either incredibly hot or viciously cold. Tonight was no different. 

You were lounging in the dressing room talking to Adam when he stormed in, interrupting you mid-sentence. He was still in full Jacobean attire, blonde hair slicked back and topknot firmly affixed. Ordinarily you’d laugh at the tights, but something in his sharp blue eyes told you that wasn’t a good idea tonight.

‘Y/N, come’, he snapped his fingers at you and you started slightly, your eyes widening in surprise. You tried to read his mood from his face but he blatantly dodged you, cold eyes looking you up and down just once before turning on his heel as he left.

You tried to hide how flustered you were from Adam, but as you leapt to your feet and smoothed down your skirt, there was no way you were succeeding. You heard the older man snort in amusement beside you.

Adam was no fool, and you were sure he’d been onto the pair of you for awhile, but he would never say anything. He was loyal to a fault to his fellow Scotsman—just like his Provost. When you finally regained your senses enough to move, you gathered Angelo’s costume for part 2 of the play up in your arms and made some excuse about needing to help him with his hair, before leaving without a backward glance, racing down the hallway after the man in tights. 

There wasn’t a sign of Jack (or was it Angelo?) in the hall, but you knew where he would be. You hurried as made your way to your usual meeting place. If he had come to fetch you for the reasons you suspected, there would be no time to waste. 

He was there, in the furthermost part of the backstage area—just as you suspected. As soon as he saw you he ceased his fervent pacing, wringing his hands as he turned to face you. You could just catch his scowl in the dim light and he rubbed his forehead distractedly. Something was off about him. He seemed... different. 

‘I’ve come to know your pleasure’ You tried, hesitantly aiming to lighten the mood by reciting one of the lines from the play. 

You were almost relieved when he smirked, but that quickly gave way to nervousness as you saw the way his eyes raked over you hungrily. There was an intensity there which was new. 

‘That you might know it,’ he started, menacingly inching towards you, like a predator, ‘would much better please me than to demand what ‘tis’. He was so close now that his body began to press into yours, moving his head to your ear so that his breath was hot on your neck. You shivered, finding yourself almost trembling in anticipation. 

You knew now why he seemed off. This was not Jack—it was Angelo. Jack was earnest, focused, attentive. Angelo, was... roguish and direct. He knew what he wanted—and he wasn’t afraid to take it. 

With a sudden sense of urgency, he grabbed you by the throat, all but pushing you into the nearest supply cupboard, his beard grazing your jaw as he kissed your neck roughly. 

Once you were inside, you dropped all the items of his clothing that were in your arms and he drew back to slam the door behind him, pulling down on the string to illuminate the tiny room with a dull, yellow light. You were firmly pinned against the wall by his body now, and you whimpered as one of his thighs jammed between your legs, that long-fingered hand still clasped firmly around your neck.

There was a moment then, where you just stared at each other. He broke character for just a second, and you were amazed to see the Jack you were more familiar with suddenly appear, earnest eyes searching yours in a silent question. You knew what he was saying and you nodded in reassurance. You two had a safe word and you would use it if you needed to. 

Seemingly satisfied, Angelo returned in a breathtaking instant. You were completely at his mercy, and his eyes raked over you hungrily, lips parted to reveal those beautiful teeth you loved so much. You couldn’t pull your eyes away from them and you stared, transfixed, as he began to pant, slow and deliberate, his tongue running along his upper incisors and his breath hot on your face. 

‘On yer knees’ he growled suddenly, releasing you as you rushed to oblige, kneeling before him and looking up at his face while he began pulling himself free from the leather straps of his costume. There was no way you had seen anything as beautiful as he was right now, looking down at you like this, and you tried not to beg for him as he met your pleading eyes with that harsh, emotionless stare. The look in his eyes told you exactly what you meant to him— _nothing_. You couldn’t get enough of it. 

He hissed as your fingers joined his to fumble with his belt, brushing against him in the process. He was hard as stone, and you both groaned, you swallowing thickly in anticipation. Every second that he wasn’t inside you was agonising, and you found yourself ripping impatiently at the straps on his doublet as he worked to free himself from those absurd, cropped trousers. His continuous heavy panting was driving you insane as you worked to remove the stiff doublet and strip him down to his tunic, barely concealing another soft moan as your fingers finally found his skin. 

The power dynamic instantly flipped, as it always did, the moment your favourite (and most notable) part of him was released from the confines of his trousers. He was suddenly at your mercy, and you took a moment to enjoy the sight of him, a rare look of vulnerability on his villainous face. Slowly and reverently, you reached out to grip him at the base with one of your hands. 

He hissed loudly as you brought him to your mouth, staring unflinchingly into his eyes as you flattened your tongue against the underside of his head. You enjoyed this moment with every man you had ever been with—the first contact with your tongue never failing to stun them into submission—it was satisfying to know that Angelo, this proud man, dressed in a little brief authority, was no different. You tried to draw the moment out, knowing that it wouldn’t last long, and you were right. 

The instant your mouth closed fully around him, the power dynamic snapped back, and all at once he regained control of you, thrusting his fingers into your hair and pulling, _hard_. You groaned in submission—the pain and pleasure almost too much to bear. 

Angelo was merciless, you were quick to discover, and _rough_. He didn’t seem to care that he repeatedly hit your gag reflex, or that your eyes were watering from the sheer force of taking him in. Not that you would be satisfied with any less from him right now. Though disguised as a villain, this man was Jack Lowden, and you had him in your mouth. This had to be one of the best memories you were ever likely to make. You tried to pull back to get a better look at him. 

Suddenly, he was pulling at your hair again, lifting you to your feet roughly and turning you around.

‘Don’t look at me’, he said gruffly. You could feel his arousal jabbing you in the small of your back as he moved one hand around to grip your throat again, shaking you threateningly. You moaned loudly, unable to stop yourself. 

‘Quiet.’ He commanded and you pressed your lips together to swiftly obey, pressing your legs together too in order to relieve some of the pressure building between them—it didn’t help at all. 

‘We don’ have much time,’ he growled softly, ‘so I can go down on ye or I can fuck ye, but I cannae dae both.’ 

You moaned at his words, just a little touched that he would give you the choice. You doubted Angelo would be so accommodating so you guessed it was the brief reappearance of Jack again, though he still held you tightly by the throat, his hand cutting off your air supply and, no doubt, some of the oxygen to your brain. 

‘Fuck me,’ you replied, almost instantly. ‘Jack, please—‘

‘ _Angelo_ ’ he growled as he sunk his face into your neck, his beard rough against your skin, driving you wild. You felt his voice reverberate all the way down to your lower belly as he hitched your skirt up from behind. 

You were so ready for him as he pushed your underwear aside and he groaned when he felt how slick you were. All for him. 

Positioning himself at your entrance, he slowly began to push, both of you breathing heavily with the anticipation. You submitted to him fully, letting your head fall back onto his shoulder as he filled you, still completely hazy from that hand which remained firmly grasped around your neck, gasping for air. 

You let him push himself all the way in and lost track of the noises you were making, before he finally released his grip on your throat, moving those deft fingers first into your mouth, and then down your body to rub you at your core, just above the place where the two of you were joined. It was an awkward position, and you were only allowed to enjoy a few rough thrusts from him, before he was once again turning you over, throwing you hard against the wall and pointing his finger into your face. 

‘Ye willnae come until I say ye can.’ He warned, and you nodded mutely as he hitched your leg up and roughly reinstated himself, attacking your mouth with his to swallow your screams as he took you hard and fast against the wall. 

You fought to stay focused, feeling the waves of pleasure building as he gave you what you wanted. A deflowered maid—and by _this_ eminent body. 

One hand on his shoulder, you tried to move the other so it could roam over his chest. You needed him—needed something to ground you. You barely got your hand on him through the thin cotton of his tunic though before he snatched it away, planting it against the wall and breaking his lips away from yours to glare at you. Jack _always_ denied you comfort when he felt you getting too close—and Angelo, it seemed, was no different. 

_Fie, these filthy vices._

‘Come.’ He commanded suddenly, and although a part of you knew that he had decided to abruptly end the encounter so that he could avoid you trying to get too close again, you were shocked at how instantly you began to respond to the command. Your breathing quickened along with his and you both panted into eachother’s mouths, the pleasure becoming too much as you gave yourself over to him, waves of pure bliss overtaking you as you felt him shudder as well. His face in that moment was worth all the effort it took to keep your eyes open, and you went over the edge, deep into that ocean of blue. 

There were only a few seconds to come down with him before he was pulling out of you, leaving you cold and empty again. There was no time for sentiment—there rarely was. 

‘Sorry.’ He said, finally having the decency to at least look embarrassed. So, it had worked then—you’d finally broken him out of the character—or at least into the next one. 

It was your turn to smirk. 

You shrugged, pulling your skirt back down and handing him his next costume from the floor. Your legs were shaking, so you sat back to light a cigarette and enjoy the show while he changed in front of you, Angelo the virtuous saint was constructed before your very eyes. And as he slipped on his cross necklace you smiled slightly. It would actually be funny—if the transformation wasn’t so impressive. 

When he was done and you’d shared the last of your cigarette with him, there was just one thing left to do. 

You reached up and yanked at his manbun, pulling the pathetic thing and its pins free and ruffling his hair so that it was a fitting mess. 

‘Ow! What the hell was that for?’

You shrugged, 

‘Call it revenge.’ You replied and he laughed, rubbing the back of his head as he leaned down to plant a kiss on the top of your head. 

‘Thanks, Y/N.’ He said, before taking off in a rush, leaving you to clean up the mess.


End file.
